Page 52 of Retribution

Including his subjects.

Everald de Beaumont was close to being cuffed.

“You are telling me that your daughter is refusing my wish?” Cambridge said. “That is a very dangerous suggestion, Everald. Would you care to rephrase that?”

Everald probably should. He was coming to the end of the time period when the medicine he took kept him on a even keel. He could feel the pins and needles in his feet and hands, a sure sign that it was starting to wear off. Soon enough, his entire body would shake and he would become sick to his stomach. The sweating and the itching would begin. He wasn’t entirely thrilled about that, knowing what was coming, so his response to Cambridge needed to be something that would placate the man so he would allow him his medicine. Everald had it in his saddlebags.

He simply had to get to it.

But Cambridge wasn’t giving him permission to leave the hall.

“She would never refuse your wish, my lord,” he said. “But, as I said before, she is not a spy or an assassin. She is a delicate woman. She has no business being an assassin or trying to seduce men close to the king. She simply doesn’t know how. She’s likely to get herself thrown in the vault, or worse.”

“Or what worse?”

“Killed.”

Cambridge grunted unhappily, toying with his gold cup, the one with the semiprecious stones in it, the one that was made from lead, with a gold coating, and the lead was slowly leaching into his wine every time he drank it. It was like a cup of death, something that he’d been drinking from ever since it was given to him by a French duc. A French duc with ties to people Cambridge had wronged, so the truth was that the lead in his wine was slowly damaging his brain.

But that was a story for another time.

In any case, at this moment, he was grossly unhappy with Everald’s honesty when he asked the man if his daughter was capable of carrying out such dangerous orders. Everald didn’t seem to think so, which enraged Cambridge.

He didn’t like it when his plans did not proceed as he hoped.

“Are you saying she lacks courage or that she lacks skill?” he asked. “Be plain, man.”

“She lacks skill,” Everald said. “My lord, my years as a knight would make me perfect for this task. If I were a woman. But I am not and I cannot teach my daughter what she needs to know in a day. It would take time. If you send her in to do this, then you are sending a babe into a lion’s den. Edward’s men will eat her alive.”

Cambridge still wasn’t pleased with what he was hearing. “You had time with her this morning,” he pointed out. “Time alone to tell her what needed to be done. Were you not convincing enough?”

Everald was starting to shake as the drug steadily wore off. “You have more power over her than I do, my lord,” he said. “I can only impress upon her what needs to be done. Beyond that, your word bears more weight. If she will not listen to you, what makes you think she will listen to me?”

“Because you are her father.”

“And you are her liege. Mayhap we should speak to her together?” Everald said. “She has returned from the dressmaker. She is up in her chamber.”

“Then go to her and tell her that she must do this.”

“She will not listen, my lord.”

Rather than explode, Cambridge simply sat back in his chair and stared at Everald in a manner that suggested the man was completely worthless. Everald could feel it, but he was feeling his need for the drug more. He could no longer deny it.

“May I be excused, my lord?” he said. “I must tend to… personal matters.”

Cambridge didn’t really care what he meant. It could have been anything. He waved the man away, disgusted with the turn of the conversation. Everald was supposed to convince his daughter to do the right thing, but Everald didn’t think she was capable. Perhaps, deep down, Cambridge didn’t think so either. But he was at least hoping Everald would be able to convince his daughter that it would be in everyone’s best interests for her to cooperate.

But she wouldn’t.

Couldn’t.

Like her father, that made her absolutely worthless to him. Not that she’d ever been worth much other than for making him look good, because very few men had a Jewel, so perhaps it was his fault for expecting too much from her.

Perhaps he needed to rethink his strategy.

If she couldn’t seduce a guard so that she could get close to the king, then perhaps there was another way to get her close to the king. Technically, the Seven Jewels of London belonged to the king and it was the king who decided where they went and to whom they belonged. It had been Henry who gifted Cleodora to Cambridge, and it had been Henry’s father who had originally formed the Seven Jewels of London as political pawns. What man would turn down one of the seven most beautiful women in all the world? Cambridge certainly hadn’t. He had taken her and taken her gladly because he knew the political prestige that went along with such a gift. The king could give, but the king could also take away.

… take away?